10 comments/ 73236 views/ 15 favorites The Submission of Maureen By: Charles Petersunn I was tempted to submit this story to the Loving Couples section, but I appreciate that it does really belong in Nonconsent, Reluctance. If themes of this nature aren't enjoyable to you or, worse, you find them to be repugnant or offensive, then you really shouldn't read this story. I must also warn you that it starts slow and even escalates slowly into the middle of the story, but I do feel that it ends strong. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Maureen and Thomas Black had been married for three years. It was a successful marriage. Everyone could see that. They were a very happy couple. Even to this day Maureen would usually find some excuse to call Tom at work, just to hear his voice. He worked at a stock brokerage firm, she was an elementary school teacher. Tom would occasionally complain to his colleagues about her calls. She could at times call at rather inopportune times. But, he would invariably smile when he hung up, so happy to be married to her. In fact, when she didn't call he might ask her why when he got home that evening. They loved spending time together, and had developed quite a number of joint hobbies and activities. They were joint members of a bridge club and a cooking club, and they would go horseback riding at least twice a month. They were not your "stay-at-home," television couples, not that there is anything wrong with that. They did, of course, do some things on their own. They weren't tied together. Maureen belonged to a book club and Tom had no real interest in that. Even if he had it was a club for just women, reading "chick books," as he would say. However, he had his own "club." On the night she was discussing "Confessions of a Shopaholic" or "Bridget Jones's Diary" with her friends, he was playing in a Texas Hold-Um club. She had no interest in that. They got up early each morning so that they could have a nice pleasant breakfast together. So many of their married friends just rushed off to work, each on their own quite busy schedule. Tom and Maureen, however, treasured the early morning moments, particularly in the summer when they would have breakfast on the screen porch, listening to the awakening birds. But, there was one problem, or at least it might be a problem. Their sex life had clearly diminished over the last couple of years. They had been quite active, sexually, prior to marriage and continued to be for much of the first year of marriage. But, it seemed to slip, to lessen, in frequency and intensity throughout the second year, and really fell off during the third. Tom even asked his married friends about this. They tried to reassure him. It was only natural, they said, for the frequency to decrease as time passed. The novelty would diminish, routine would set in. They did note thought that married couples still had more sex on average than unmarried persons. They read in the newspaper that, across cultures, married couples had sex on average about three times per week, whereas the single person was less than that (when averaged across the entire year). However, Tom and Maureen weren't even having sex three times a week and, besides, it wasn't particularly inspiring sex. Tom knew it must be his fault. He tried hard to please her. He wasn't the least bit inhibited about performing oral sex on her and in fact worked pretty hard at it. With some effort he could bring her to orgasm that way, but that was frankly the point: "with some effort," and he wasn't always successful. He couldn't use the excuse that she wasn't really that interested in sex. She had plenty of orgasms on a routine basis prior to their marriage, or at least he thought she did. He wondered now if she had been like Elaine with Seinfeld, pretending to have orgasms. Now that she was married perhaps she was losing the motivation to always pretend. He couldn't blame her for that. How weird would it be to pretend throughout your marriage that you were having orgasms? He did try very hard. He took his time with foreplay, he suppressed his more repugnant, offensive sexual fantasies (which he was quite ashamed to have) and he was always quite romantic with Maureen. He would at times surprise her with a nice romantic evening, building up to what he thought would be a delicious, candle light intimacy. She had seemed to love it when they were dating. But, the spark had clearly worn off. For awhile he wondered if she was having an affair. That would certainly explain her decreased interest in having sex with him. Maureen did have quite a few offers. She was a very attractive women. She wasn't like a gorgeous bombshell model. She was a very petite girl, only about 5'1" and she was quite insecure about her breast size, which was rather small (32A). But, goodness, she was attractive. Tom said that she reminded him so much of Calista Flockhart as Ally McBeal. Calista is much taller than Maureen, but they were still quite similar, particularly facially. He always wondered if that was what first attracted him to her. She really was her spitting image. She had long straight blonde hair, an adorably perky nose, the cutest of dimples, and the most innocent, sparkling brown eyes. She was undeniably very pretty and sensual. Maureen had such a bubbly, outgoing, and engaging personality. And, she dressed in a manner that accentuated her sexual appeal. She liked to wear tight, short skirts and high heels. Quoting Ally McBeal, "Men are constantly trying to undress me. I'm just trying to save them some time." She didn't dress that way when she taught classes at school. She would probably, of course, drive the little boys wild if she had done that. But, whenever they went out on the town, she dressed to kill. Tom wondered if she dressed so provocatively because of her insecurity over the size of her breasts, but he never expressed the thought, as the way she dressed was certainly fine with him. She had such nicely curved legs and the most perkiest, adorable of bottoms. The thought of anal sex crossed his mind on occasion as she bent over in one of her tight skirts to pick something up, the curves of her perky round fanny becoming tightly molded by her skirt, but he thought better of ever bringing that up. He certainly didn't want her to think that he was some sort of a pervert. Maureen acknowledged her physical resemblance to Ally, and they both enjoyed the fact that Calista was back with a new show, "Brothers and Sisters," although it was a little jarring at first for Tom. Kitty Walker is much different than Ally McBeal. Maureen was frankly closer in personality to Ally than to Kitty. But, perhaps a little reality was good for Tom. Tom just felt fortunate to be Maureen's husband, as did many of the men who came across Maureen at work or during one of their social events. They couldn't understand her attraction for him. It has been suggested that men and women marry at the same level of attractiveness. If that's true, then Maureen certainly married down a notch. It wasn't that Tom was unattractive, but he lacked the striking appeal of Maureen. He was just average looking, whereas she was quite the fetching vixen. Tom would say that he was Maureen's "John Cage," whereas Ally was in fact carrying a torch for the more handsome Billy Thomas. Ally did at one time date John, but it seemed to be little more than a pity date. John was good looking, but he was clearly out of Ally's league. John was a bit of the wimp, whereas Billy was the stud. And, that did not go unnoticed by the single, and at times even married, men that always seemed to circle around Maureen. Tom couldn't blame them. If he was in their shoes (and had their physical attributes) he would probably do the same thing. And, besides, the way Maureen dressed did seem to suggest that she was looking. Maureen was fully aware of the efforts to seduce her away from Tom, but she never wavered and, unlike Ally, was never actually tempted. She was very happy with Tom and would do nothing to harm or hurt their marriage. But, if asked, she would have to agree that the fire within the bedroom was dying down to just a few embers. And, she knew it was her fault. She finally decided that she would have to broach the topic. She had vowed three months ago that she would do so before her next birthday, and that was tomorrow. She couldn't put it off any longer. She would have to explain herself to Tom. She wanted this marriage to work and she could tell that in one important respect it was not working. But, it would be so difficult to talk about, so difficult to acknowledge. The fact that it was her birthday tomorrow might at least provide a degree of sympathy. "Tom, we need to talk." He didn't like the sound of that. That was a sentence that invariably meant bad news. He had been dreading this. He didn't know what it would be, but he knew it couldn't be good. He sighed deeply, figuring that she was finally going to tell him about an affair. She had met somebody knew. Probably that Brewster Harris guy who ran the stables. He was a very eligible bachelor: rich, good looking, and engaging. Everything Tom was not. "Yes, well, I was kind of expecting this." "You were? Really?" "Well, yes. I s'pose." "It's just, that, well, we really haven't been doing it that much anymore, you know." "Yes, I know, and I want you to know that I can do better." "No, no, Tom, it's not you, really, it's me." 'Oh man,' he thought, there it is, the line, 'It's not you, it's me.' It's a way of dumping someone without suggesting that it has anything to do with the attractiveness or appeal of the partner. Of course it's you. If you were the person they wanted there wouldn't be a problem. It's also a way of making sure that the person has no choice but to accept it. If it was you, you could do something about it. You could change. You could try harder. But, if it's not you, there's nothing that you can do. Maureen looked away. "This is really difficult to say, Tom." Tom could feel a wave of anxiety sweep through him. How bad is this? Is she really going to talk about a separation, a divorce? He vowed he would fight that. Other than the sex, they seemed to be getting along so well. Everything seemed so fine, so good. But, he knew he wouldn't really fight it. If she was in love with somebody else, there would be no point in trying to win her back. He had been looking forward so much to her birthday. He had arranged for a very special, romantic dinner at one of the most exclusive French restaurants in town. He had been hoping that this would ignite a spark in their marriage. He couldn't imagine taking her there now. How odd would that be? He wouldn't try to keep her if she didn't want him. He would go quietly. "Don't worry, Maureen. I'll be fine." "What?" What the hell was he talking about? "No, um, I don't think you understand." What the heck was she talking about? "What is it?" "It's about, you know, our, our," she said more quietly, "sex life." Well, he knew that. But, it was good to get it out on the table. "It has kind of slipped away, hasn't it. I always did want to ask you." "Ask me?" She was still confused by his responses. "Ask me what?" "I mean, um, have you always been faking it?" She smiled at him. He was a rather insecure guy. He wasn't really meek, but he was far from confidently assertive, just like John Cage. It was perhaps odd though. She actually found that attractive in him. She didn't really like the aggressively assertive, take-charge, bossy, confident male, at least in her everyday life. They seemed rather narcissistic to her. She preferred John Cage over Billy Thomas. After all, she had married the Cage when she had quite a few offers from Thomas's. What was perhaps odd was that this was the problem. She liked the Cage as a husband but she preferred his alter-ego in bed. "No, honey, I've never been faking it. I always loved it with you." "Then, why has it become so infrequent, and so, well, um." She offered, "Dull?" It was pretty darn hard to admit that one's sex life was dull. You had to be pretty anhedonic to experience sex as dull, but that was the truth of the matter. He nodded in abject admission. But, still, there was, as yet, no reference to an affair, to another guy. So far, this really wasn't too bad. "Is there something I'm doing wrong?" He blushed as he said that. He knew there must be, but how many guys like to admit that they aren't doing a good job in bed? "Well, in a sense, yes." "I knew it," and his face became beet red. He had always wondered if she was happy in bed. She must have had quite a few Billy Thomas's and Brewster Harris's as lovers prior to meeting him. He had tried hard. He had never worked so hard in bed. That was one problem with marrying up. You never quite feel like you're good enough in bed, no matter what you do, as there is nothing that you can do about your body, and what you look like is so significant when it comes to sexual attractiveness. "No, no, honey, that's not what I mean. Yes, there is something you can do, but the problem is that what I want you to do is something that, well, I never would really expect you to realize." She finally said it. She probably should have said this years ago, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had been hoping that her predilection would just go away as the years went by. She was not proud of it. She was in fact rather ashamed. But, it had not gone away and not admitting it, not talking about it, was interfering with their marriage. It was so difficult to tell him. She certainly didn't want him to think that she was some sort of a pervert. He wondered what she could be referring to. He certainly didn't mind performing oral sex. It was also perfectly fine with him when she was on top. He had expended considerable effort in making the atmosphere as romantic as possible, and he avoided all sort of any of the more dirty things he actually wanted to do, wanted to ask her to do. Well, she had just said that she never would really expect him to realize what she wanted. If that's so, then how could he be expected to figure it out? "What do mean?" It was Maureen's turn to blush. "Well, it's just that, um." She moved over on the couch to sit right next to him, and she placed her hand on his thigh. "Tom, this is so hard to admit. Please, please don't hate me after I tell you. You promise me you won't, will you?" 'Wow,' he thought. 'This must really be something.' But, she certainly had no need to be concerned about that. He placed his hand on hers. "Maureen, there is nothing that you could tell me that would make me love you any less." Maureen almost felt like crying. Her eyes did feel a little watery. It was always nice to have your husband tell you that he loved you. At this moment, she knew she had made the right choice in marrying him. She rested her head on his shoulder. She couldn't look him in the eyes while telling him. She openly sighed and said, "It's just that, well, I like the guy to be more assertive, more forceful." "Oh," he replied. Yup, this was about him. He knew he was a bit of a wimp. He knew that at times he seemed to be asking to have sex. But, that hardly seemed to be enough of the problem. He ventured to defend himself. "There were times that I was pretty assertive about it." In fact, quite a number of times. He didn't really always ask to have sex. There were plenty of times in which he initiated the session. Heck, most of the romantic nights were initiated by him. That was pretty darn assertive. "No, no, that's not what I mean." She tucked her face deeper into the crook of his shoulder. He placed a hand reassuringly on her head. "Maureen, just tell me." She didn't want to, but she knew she had to. She said, very quietly, "I like it when the guy is, you know, like really forceful, domineering." There was a moment of silence as the word sunk in. 'Domineering?' He had to admit that he was hardly ever, perhaps never, domineering. On the contrary, he had always been extra careful not to offend her, not to compel her to do anything that she might find offensive. If anything, he was consistently deferential. Now, it appears that was in fact precisely the problem. But, did she really mean what he thought she meant? She pulled away and looked him in the eyes. "Sweety, like, I don't mean in day-to-day life. I love the way you are then, so considerate, so accommodating. It's just that, well, when I have sex, when we have sex, I like it, I've always liked it, when the guy was well, controlling things." "You want me to say what to do?" He thought he knew what she meant. He wasn't stupid, but he had to be sure. She looked down. "It's more than that. A lot more than that. I want you to treat me like, well, like, you know, you have complete, entire, full control over me, making me do things that I wouldn't want to do." Tom could feel his cock beginning to swell. What guy would not feel his cock swell as a pretty, alluring, lovely woman tells him that she wants him to have complete, entire, full control over her, sexually. If he understood her correctly, this was not really bad news. "Is this why you haven't been enjoying it so much?" She nodded her head. She wanted to cry. "Why didn't you just tell me? I mean, well, we dated for two years, married for three, and now you're finally letting me know?" He wasn't angry. He was just surprised, confused. He had certainly told her how he liked doing it. Well, that wasn't really true, actually, when he thought about it. He would say, "That's nice," or "That's really nice," when she was doing something that he particularly liked, hoping that she was keeping track of when he would say it. And, besides, he had certainly kept his more severe fantasies to himself, fantasies that perhaps now could be revealed, even expressed? "I know, I know. I should have said something. But, it's kind of hard to admit, don't you think? I mean, I didn't want you to think I was some sort of a pervert, and I was hoping my enjoyment of it would just drift away. But, it's clear," she said more quietly, "that it hasn't." No, he wasn't angry with her. He could never be angry with her, and he certainly couldn't be angry, or even disappointed, with her over not telling him something like that. He had clearly kept his own predilections to himself, out of fear of troubling, disappointing, perhaps even disturbing, her. Well, that was about to change. "Maureen, I think you have been a very, very bad girl." She looked up at him, with a quite notable look of worried surprise on her face. She knew that it was wrong for her to not be completely honest with her husband. A wife should be completely open and forthright. She should not have any deep secrets, any skeletons that might someday haunt the marriage. But, she really wouldn't consider it so bad not to have told him. It's sometimes quite good, even best, for a marriage not to reveal some dark secrets of the past. But, as she looked at him, she realized what he was saying, what he was doing. He wasn't really mad. He had in fact gotten the message. She replied appropriately, "I know, I know. I have been bad." Tom wasn't entirely sure what precisely she wanted him to do. He had a few ideas, but he wasn't about to take this too far. "And, what happens to naughty girls?" She responded meekly, "They get punished." "Well, what kind of punishment is warranted for a wife who keeps a secret for five years? Perhaps she should go to bed with no dessert? No television tonight? Do you think that would be sufficient punishment?" She slid away from him and looked down at her hands, now clasped in her lap. "No sir, I don't. I think she deserves much more than that." Tom got up from the couch and stood before her, his erection quite evident in his slacks. For perhaps the first time in the marriage, he gave a command. "Look up at me, Maureen." The Submission of Maureen Her face and eyes moved up. They paused at the clear sign of his masculine arousal. She was very, very pleased to see that. She feigned though a concern. She said as she placed a hand to her lips, "Oh my, you're not going to make me do something with that, are you?" "Oh, I'm not so sure that you deserve him right now." He could tell that he was going to enjoy this. This was clearly turning from a potentially terrible evening to a most pleasurable one. He was finding considerable strength within himself for this new husbandly responsibility. "Maybe a good wife would deserve it, but have you been a good wife?" She looked back down. "No sir, I haven't." "Yes, well, we weren't talking about your reward. We were talking about your punishment." "Yes sir." Maureen's heart was pounding with excitement. She didn't know where this was going to go, but she hadn't felt this excited about sex for quite some time. She could feel herself shivering with anticipation. "Now, I will ask you again and this time I want a straight answer. How should you be punished?" "Well, sir," she said softly, not daring to look him in the eyes without his permission, "when I was a little girl, and I was bad, my daddy would, well, he would." She hesitated. This was very difficult to admit. She could feel her face once again redden at the thought of what she was about to say, to admit to wanting. "Your punishment will be double if you do not answer me." Tom was surprised at how well he was taking to his new role. Sometimes it's the submissive ones who have within them an alter ego, although it wasn't really the case that this was a deeply repressed, unknown part of him. He was such an agreeable, compliant, deferential husband that it was only natural that he harbored fantasies of being quite the opposite. He certainly had such sexual fantasies as a boy, jerking off in his bedroom at night. It was just that he was so insecure about letting that part of him out, knowing full well that it would be rejected, and would certainly be rejected by a woman as attractive, as favored and popular as Maureen. Well, he would need to make up for lost time. Tom was surprising Maureen as well. He was speaking with considerably more authority and force than she had previously experienced. It was a little disconcerting, but still very appealing because it was a bit troubling. In any case, she knew she better speak up. "A spanking," she said. "I would get a spanking." "Well then, that's better." He wasn't entirely sure what he should do next. He really wasn't into spanking, at least he had never dwelt on that fantasy before. However, he would enjoy the preparation. "Alright then, why don't you get up off that couch and prepare yourself." She did as she was told. She pushed herself off the couch and stepped into the middle of the room. Tom sat back down, making himself comfortable on the couch. Yes, he would enjoy this. He crossed his legs and said, "Turn around." She did as she was told. "Lift up your skirt." Maureen could feel herself getting quite warm between her thighs. She leaned forward to grasp the hem of her skirt. She didn't have to lean far, as her skirt was quite short. She grasped the hem and worked it's way up. It wasn't easy, as her skirt was so tight. She even had to wiggle her bottom a bit as she pulled it up past her fanny. It was such a beguiling sight. She was wearing nylons, held up by a rose garter belt with matching lace panties. Maureen was always dressed to the nines. And, to Tom, as well as to many others, one of her most endearing features was her taut, perky, apple round derriere that was so nicely wrapped by the tight, alluring panties. "Bend over," he commanded. Maureen had bent over in front of Tom many times before. She had even done so flirtatiously. But, this was the first time she had done so under his command, his authority. She did so quite willingly. She poked her bottom out for her husband, at her husband. "Pull them down." She tucked her skirt up over her back so that it would not fall back down. She then reached behind her to pull down her panties. But, there was a bit of a problem. "Um, honey, I, uh, the garter belt, the panties are beneath the belt." Tom got up from the couch and strode the two steps to his wife. SMACK! "Yikes!" she yipped, as her husband quickly gave her a hard smack on her bottom. She was taken by surprise by the sudden assault and was stung, quite physically, by the hard slap. She stumbled a bit forward but, like a good wife, she maintained her submissive, yielding position. She licked her lips, as she felt moisture begin to form on her other lips. He returned to the couch. "I don't want any explanations, any apologies or delays. Just make it right." Maureen reached back and undid the clasps of her garter belt. She then grasped the waistband of her panties and slowly, slowly, slid them down. She knew that he would like it to be slow, to have the whiteness of her derriere first come into view, the appearance of the pale skin announcing that something was about to be shown that rarely saw the light of day, something that was immodest to show. And, then, the first sign of her crack, slowing lengthening and widening as her rose panties slipped further and further down the curve of her swelling round cheeks. As her full crack came into view, Tom instructed her, "Hold them there for a second." He had always wanted to see her bent over like this, her panties tucked just below her soft round cheeks. She would at times flirt with him as she pulled down her panties before sex, giving him little teasing looks. But, she never stayed in one position for any particular period of time, as he in fact would have enjoyed, like she was a glamour model posing for his pleasure. She had such a pretty body. Perhaps she would have been a good model, despite her diminutive height. In any case, he had never had the nerve to ask her to stay put for a time as he admired, enjoyed, the presentation. But, now, he did have the authority, the power, to ask her, to tell her, to do as he pleased. He smiled as he gazed upon her soft white moon. He commanded, "Bend your knees and grasp your hands behind your knees." She didn't really understand why this would make any difference, but as she did so she fully realized. This position really thrust her bottom out, swelling to a large white round pumpkin, split down the middle by a brown valley, peeking out from which was her little brown star, and, beneath that, her feminine pouch. Maureen blushed at how obscene she felt posing like this. Tom though wasn't finished. "Pull your cheeks apart." Maureen's eyes widened with surprise at that command. She was already feeling rather demeaned, bent over like this, displaying her naked bottom to her husband, wondering what he was thinking, what he might be doing. But, that hardly compared to spreading open her bottom cheeks. She would then be openly, actively, shamelessly showing him her anus, where she evacuated, where she pooped. Why would he want to look at that? It seemed awfully disgusting to her. "Do I have to give you another smack?" She reached back and spread her cheeks with her hands, at the same time bowing her head in abject humiliation, yet still feeling herself getting warmer and warmer between her thighs. It wasn't clear which part of her felt hotter: her face or her cunnie. She felt a cool wisp of air kiss her exposed anus as her cheeks were spread. Tom uncrossed his legs. He needed to shift the position of his cock straining to be released from his slacks. He decided to let her stay in that embarrassing pose for some time as he just sat there and admired the view, playing with his cock through his pants. His favorite position was doggy style, largely because he really enjoyed seeing her perky little white fanny, but also because her puckered rose bud would also be exposed. He wondered while they were doing it if she realized that he could see it. Many a time he had considered touching her anus, sort of testing the water to see if she might in fact be receptive to anal sex. However, he never did do it, as he was concerned that he might lose much more than he had briefly gained. She might be appalled that he was even thinking about it and alarmed by the fact that her butt hole was so exposed in this position. She might then curtail how often they did it doggy style, or perhaps even desist from ever doing it that way again. But, now, she was openly, willingly, displaying her anus to him. Well, it wasn't really clear how willing she really was. She certainly wasn't doing it because she wanted to. She was doing it because she had to, and he could tell she was embarrassed by having to do it. She was agitatively moving, adjusting her legs, as a result shifting and waving her bottom. Her discomfort, her squirming, made it all the more fetching and endearing. He squeezed the head of his cock through his slacks. "Alright then, come over here for your spanking." Maureen let go of her cheeks. She was happy to do that, although feeling understandably ambivalent about getting a spanking. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them the rest of the way down. She stood back up and was about to kick them off her ankles when Tom corrected her. "No, no, keep your panties around your ankles." Maureen looked back at him over her shoulder, her lily white bottom still on display. "But, I might trip on them." "Well then, be careful." Maureen smiled at him. She knew she shouldn't, but she was terribly impressed at how well he was taking to his new role. She never wanted to have sex with him more than she did at that moment. Well, that's not really true. Their first time was fantastic, and many times thereafter during their first year were also terribly wonderful. But, it had been quite a while since she had felt this desiring, this lustful. She giggled like a schoolgirl as she turned around to face him and, with little geisha like steps, her little titties jiggling under her blouse, she awkwardly made her way across the room to stand deferentially before him. "I assume you know the correct position." "Yes dear," she admitted. She crawled onto and over his lap. Her diminutive height was a good fit for this position. It actually seemed like he had a schoolgirl on his lap, although her business skirt and white blouse didn't match the rest of the image. Her skirt had slipped down somewhat by her clumsy walk. He pulled it up and over her bottom. What a nice presentation. It was like she was actually serving her bottom to him, as a present presented on his lap. It was perhaps a shame to punish such a pretty derriere. It looked so cute, so innocent, so defenseless. He ran the tips of his fingers along the soft white curves, lightly scratching her with his fingernails as he went, leaving little red lines etched into her delicate pale skin. And then, with the back of his index finger, he traced the path of her crack, from the top, starting just below her spine, up the rise to the crest of her fanny, and then back down. He hesitated just above her anus, thinking again about actually touching it. "Honey," Maureen said, wondering about what he was thinking, and realizing that they probably should set some ground rules. "Yes, dear?" Tom replied, still lost in his thoughts, his fantasies, his impulses. "You know, it's probably good that we have a safe word." "A safe word?" "Yes, um, well, it's up to you what happens, what you want me to do. And, at times I won't want to do it, but you gotta ignore that and just go ahead. I might not want to do it but I'll go along with it, but some times I really won't want to do it. And, so, you have, or I have, a safe word: a word I can use for you to tell that I really don't want to do something, and you then have to stop." "Oh, yeah, of course, that makes sense." Was it an accident, a coincidence, that she had thought of this point just as he was about to touch her anus? "Good, um. Let me see." She thought for a moment what she would like to use as her safe word, while Tom continued to slide his finger up and down her crack, admiring the delectable crease across such a lovely, soft, pale moon. "Rosebud." "What?" "Rosebud. Roses are my favorite flower and so rosebud will be my safe word." She twisted her head around, as best she could, and said, "Whenever I say 'rosebud' you have to stop what you're doing. Okay?" That did really seem reasonable, although he wasn't too happy with the choice. It was precisely her rosebud that he was about to tickle and he suspected it was no accident that this was now her safe word. "I mean it now, honey. No exceptions. Please. If we can't agree to this then I really can't do this at all." "Well, sure, sure, of course." He couldn't understand why she had to assert her point so strongly. Heck, the whole thing was her idea. He wasn't about to force anything on her. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, there is a little matter of your discipline." "Oh yes," she smiled. She wiggled back into a comfortable position, although before she felt she was fully prepared: SMACK! "Yeeoww!" she squealed as she felt the stinging blow of his hand on her bare butt. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Tom was raining blows down on her ass. She was squealing, squirming, and jumping all over his lap. She would reach back to try to block or weaken a blow, but he was moving much too fast for her and the location of his strikes kept shifting as he wanted to give her bottom a smooth red glow. Perhaps tomorrow he would give her another spanking; a more traditional birthday spanking, one for each year of her life. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! She was pleading, begging, for mercy. "Honey, please, that's enough!" "I'll be good!" "No more!" "It's too much!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! But, he showed no mercy and continued to paddle her behind. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "Really now, honey, it really stings! Oh please! Slow down! Honestly, I can't take it!" It was very clear that she was really quite uncomfortable, to say the least. His own hand was beginning to sting and ache in some considerable discomfort. But, it was also equally clear that she had not yet said "rosebud," and so he continued on. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Maureen could tell that her pleas were not going to have any effect, and so she simply grimaced her face, clutched his legs with her hands, and bore the final set of blows in compliant silence. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! When he stopped he admired his handiwork. Her entire bottom was now a pretty apple red (as was the palm of his hand). She looked so glowing, so luscious, so ripe. He wanted so much to take a bite. It would be the finest apple he had ever sunk his teeth into. Instead, he took sympathy in his victim. He had perhaps gotten carried away. Maureen's bottom was indeed on fire, but it was the fire between her thighs that had her attention. She had never felt so aroused, so excited. She wanted to draw his attention to her "predicament." She rubbed her thigh against his erection. "Daddy, did spanking me get you excited?" "What did you call me?" "Um, daddy." "That is a very dirty thing to say, Maureen." "Yes sir. I'm sorry sir, but, um, I thought you would like that." "You thought I would like to pretend that I am your father, spanking your naked little bottom like a bad little girl?" "Um, well." She was not entirely sure what was the best answer. Frankly, it was possible that there was no correct answer. "Yeah, um, I did." "Well, my dear, I am frankly insulted. That was a disgusting suggestion. Apparently, a spanking gives you rather obscene thoughts." He slid his hand in between her thighs. He was surprised at how true it was. She was so wet, actually drenched. He slid his fingers in between her hot, soaking lips. His cock would feel so good there. He had never wanted her more, holding on to her hot red butt while his dick slid into her tight slippery tunnel. Maureen smiled at his touch. This was what she wanted. She opened up her thighs to provide him with more room, and pushed her bottom up to encourage him to hopefully thrust his fingers up inside. But, Tom would not be so easily seduced. "Yes, Maureen, you have indeed excited me, and I hope you are appropriately remorseful. I am only trying to provide you with the punishment you deserve, but instead you take this as an opportunity to expose your disgustingly aroused vagina to my sight, thereby attempting to entice me to indulge your base pleasures." Maureen wanted to giggle at his effort to sound like a patriarchal principal. It was a bit overdone but, to her at least, rather cute. She smiled, at least to herself. "Well, since it is your responsibility for my state of arousal, it shall be your responsibility to resolve the problem." "Yes sir," she replied, a smile now evident on her face, but it was turned away from Tom so that he couldn't see it. "Get on your knees." Maureen knew what he wanted. She didn't mind. She had performed oral sex for him quite a number of times. She usually didn't do it this way though, on her knees before him. It was usually when he was lying down, in bed, or maybe even when they were doing it for each other, at the same time. Doing it on her knees was different, this was more subservient, like she was serving, servicing, him. And, that was precisely what she wanted of him. She crawled off his lap and got into position between his parted legs. She reached for his zipper. "First, take off your blouse." She backed off. "Yes sir," she meekly replied, and undid the buttons of her blouse. She could feel a drop of feminine dew slide from her cunnie down her thigh as she undressed for him. She opened up and removed her blouse, revealing to him her lacy white, half cup brassiere, trimmed with a most delicate fringe. There was even a little white bow in the center, just below a bit of hint of cleavage. Her breasts were quite small, but they were so appealing dressed by the tight, round white cups. Maureen waited for his direction to remove her brassiere. He nodded his approval and she reached back to undue the clasp. She then leaned a bit forward to let the cups naturally fall from her breasts. Tom sighed with pleasure at the sight of her titties coming into view. This was a sight that he knew many men desired. It wasn't like there was much to see, but their smallness seemed to make them all the more beguiling. They made her look so innocent, so sweet, so tender. She was such a confident, outgoing woman, but her little titties revealed a side of her that was so clearly vulnerable. Her nipples though were quite prominent. He at times wondered if her nipples just appeared to be abnormally large relative to the smallness of her breasts, but, with much exploration on the internet, he did truly feel that she had unusually large nipples, which he found very, very appealing. They appeared to be particularly perky and pointed this evening. "Cup your breasts for me." It wasn't like they needed any support. Not at all. He just wanted her to display them for him. This was something Maureen had done before, when she was feeling especially flirtatious, or vampish. It had a different meaning now though, and she blushed as she held up her bubbies for his consideration, his inspection. "Very nice," he said with approval. "Thank you, sir," she modestly replied, feeling grateful that he did not disparage their size. He began to unzip his slacks and then thought better of it. "You take it out." "Yes sir." She leaned forward, her little titties jiggling with her effort, unzipped him the rest of the away, and then reached in to extract his hard cock. The Submission of Maureen It wasn't that easy. She wasn't used to having to do this, and he was wearing briefs. "It would have been easier, you know, if you wore the briefs with the horizontal flap." "Excuse me?" She looked up anxiously as she realized her error. It was only meant to be a helpful observation, and certainly not a criticism. But, it wasn't her place to provide such suggestions. "Sorry, sorry sir." She resumed her task, this time with more care and determination. When she had successfully released his hard cock, she sat back on her haunches, awaiting his next instruction. She had to admit that Tom's dick did appear more impressive than usual. It could just be her new social position, relative to him, that made him seem all the more manly and powerful, but it could as well be literally, concretely, her physical position, kneeling between his legs, looking up at him, past his hard cock that seemed to be boldly thrusting out, towering over her face like a majestic, imperious weapon. She could not deny a feeling of being protected, sheltered, by a man with such a stout truncheon. "Use your hand." "Yes sir," she softly replied and took hold of his shaft. This, of course, she had done many times. She knew how to get him off quickly. There were times in which she wasn't really that interested in having sex, and would use her hand to relieve him. She grasped him tightly and slid her fist up and down his length, admiring how the bulb of his cock swelled with a shiny purplish glow as her fist moved up. She didn't think that she had ever valued, admired, his cock more than she did just then. It did not take long for him to cum, due in part to the skills of her hand, but perhaps as well the uniqueness, the lewdness, the delightful naughtiness of what they were doing. He quickly found himself beginning to swell with that feeling of inevitable explosion. "Kiss me," he ordered. And she obeyed, placing her lips against the head of his cock just as he gushed forth a wad of hot, wet, sticky cum. She had not been expecting that. She knew he wouldn't last long and that he was getting close, but she had not expected him to cum this quickly, and without any warning. He had always carefully warned her in the past, allowing her to remove her face, her lips, from harm, so that he would safely squirt onto his own abdomen. She had never taken his cum on her face before. She had swallowed the cum of prior boy friends many times before and had even let prior boyfriends cum on her face. But, she had vowed that her relationship with Tom would be different, or at least their sex life would be different, that she would be the dominant one, that she would not submit to such things. But, here it was again. Her first instinct was to pull back and move left, letting the gushes fall harmlessly to the floor. But, she resisted this impulse and, instead, just crouched down lower so that she could be sure to receive as much as possible of his manly gruel on her lips, her cheeks, her nose. She sighed with pleasure as she felt his warm, thick spray raining down on her, covering her pretty face with splats, lines, and little puddles of cum. It felt so good to once again be receiving her man in this manner, to be taking his cum in the most intimate and personal way. He was making quite a mess of her face, but it was a delightful, tasty mess. When he was done he fell back into the couch, panting with exhausted relief. Maureen squeezed out the remaining juice onto her nose, cleaned the tip with her tongue, carefully placed his slackening penis back into his briefs, and then zipped him back up. She knew that tonight there would be no relief for her. Her cunny was yearning for his touch, for his hard cock. But, she would have to wait. She crawled back onto the couch, lying down next to him, her cum splattered face resting in his lap, being careful, as best she could, not to soil his pants. "It was good, honey; it was real good." she said, as she felt herself drifting off to nap, the fresh smell of his cum tickling her nostrils. He was glad to hear that. He was worried that perhaps he had gone too far, or that she would be upset that he came before satisfying her. However, he now realized that he would have to change his plans for her birthday tomorrow. As he listened to her deep breathing, he pondered what to do. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Tom was waiting for her as she arrived home from work. "Are you ready for your birthday present?" One thing that Maureen could not and did not complain about was Tom's generosity. He never skimped on his presents. He had always been a very considerate husband, and would at times surprise her with little, at times even big, gifts, provided on no special occasion. He considered them to be his daily acts of love. But, today would of course be special. "Oh yes, dear, first, though, let me change and get ready." He knew what that meant. It would be at least an hour before they left. She would shower, renew her make-up, and take forever to choose her outfit. He sighed with some frustration. He knew, though, that he would wait. He always had. And, besides, he did want her to be at her best today. It was her birthday. When she was finally ready she strode out of the bedroom in triumph. She was indeed strikingly pretty. She was wearing a conservative business suit, but on Maureen this was quite sexy. Of course, the exceptionally short skirt went a long way toward making it enticing. It was among her best Ally McBeal looks. There was, perhaps, however, one potential problem. "Lift up your skirt." Tom felt a surge in his balls with his authoritative command. Maureen looked concerned. She thought that she had prepared well. She did, however, as she was told. She lifted up her skirt to show him her panties. She was wearing one of her, and his, favorite panties: a pair of pink silk Calvin Klein bikini panties. They contrasted well with her black skirt and therefore provided a sweet treat when peaking out from beneath her skirt. In addition, this time she had dutifully worn the panties over her garter straps so that they could easily be removed, and that turned out to be a fortunate decision. This was not a day for panties. Well, it would be a day for panties, but not quite yet. She looked so cute standing there, confused, holding her skirt up to show him her panties. He wanted to enjoy this sight for some time. He wished he had a camera. But, there would be other opportunities, in the future. "Take them off." There was something so charming about a girl having to submissively display herself this way. "Honey, really? Are you sure?" No, he wasn't, but he didn't say anything. "I mean, um, my skirt is awfully short." The thought that she might at times expose her bottom, or even her cunnie, made his cock swell. He was sure now. "Yes, remove them." "Yes sir," she demurely replied. She reached up beneath her skirt to pull them down. "Turn around," he ordered. "Let me watch you, enjoy you." She did as she was told. She turned around so that her bum was facing toward him, and she smiled as she bent over at the waist, lifted her skirt, and slowly slid her panties off her bottom. She paused as the pink silk cleared the bottom of her cheeks. She had learned well from last night what he enjoyed. She waited for a bit, letting him enjoy the adorable sight of her naked white fanny resting on her rolled pink panties. She then pulled them down her thighs and to her ankles, keeping her legs straight so that he got a good view of her sweet pussy and in between her cheeks as well, but then also bent her knees and jutted out her bottom, swelling up and rounding further with this pose. She even reached behind and briefly spread her cheeks, squeezing her anus so that her rosebud seemed to wink at him. She knew what her man liked. She then stood back up and stepped out of her panties. They were now ready to shop. Maureen rode in the passenger seat as he drove, her skirt pulled up so that her bare bottom was resting on the cool vinyl. It felt really quite odd and exposed to be sitting this way. She pried him with questions regarding where and what they would be shopping for, but he wouldn't tell her, not even a clue. After all, it was her birthday and you never wanted to spoil the surprise. The fact that she was panty-less became acutely evident as she walked from the car to the mall. She could feel little drafts of cool air kissing her vaginal lips and bottom. Her wisps of cunnie hair tickled in the breeze. He first took her to a toy store. Maureen was terribly confused. What present could he be buying for her in a toy shop? She had no interest in children's toys, nor did he. She had been hoping they would be going to a shop of fragrances, clothes, lingerie, or perhaps even jewelry. A toy store? "What are we doing here?" she asked. She hoped that she didn't sound questioning, or critical. She was just so very curious and confused. He told her to wait outside. He would be back in a moment. Tom went up and down the aisles, looking for something. And, then, he found it. He looked back at her, waiting out in front, and smiled. He went to the counter, made his purchase, and returned to her. It was a bag of marbles. They were half inch marbles, actually quite colorful with red, white, and blue curved stripes. He walked her over to one of the comfort couches placed within an alcove of the promenade. She was quite careful when sitting down, as there was but a few inches, if that, between the light of the day, well, light of the mall, and her cunnie. "Here," he said, handing her the bag of marbles. "Put them inside." "Tommy, you can't be serious." She looked around, worried that someone might have heard what he had said, reflexively pulling down on the hem of her skirt. "I am deadly serious. I want you to wear these marbles as we shop." "But, honey, I mean, they, um, they could fall out." "Well, be sure then you hold onto them so that they don't." Maureen breathed deeply. She had wanted, she had even suggested, no asked, Tom to assert himself, to take charge of her. But, it was clearly a risky decision as she had no idea what he might want her to do. Last night had been fine. It was a bit embarrassing to be holding open her cheeks for him, and she felt a little funny taking his cum on her face. But, it had been the sort of thing she had expected and, in the end, had enjoyed. Her only complaint was that he had not taken care of her. But, marbles in your cunnie? She had certainly not expected anything like that. She took the bag of marbles from his hand and looked around for a lavatory. He could see what she was doing, thinking. "Here, put them in here." "Sweetie!" He was taking this role play a bit too far. She could feel her heart begin to run. How could she do that without being seen? Well, it was at least a challenge, and a rather exciting one at that. She looked around. Nobody was looking at them. They were perhaps safe within the alcove, although there were other people sitting there as well, and numerous persons were walking toward and by them. She could do this. But, she also knew that once she raised her skirt, or slid her hand underneath her skirt, eyes would turn. You can't just raise your skirt in a public mall and stick marbles up your cunnie. There was probably even a law against it. Perhaps if she first bent over, like she had a stomach ache. The front of her skirt and thighs would be well hidden. She could probably get her hand up her skirt without being seen. Thank goodness she was wearing a short skirt. She tried it out with one of the marbles. It didn't really work that well, as it took too long to get the marble in. However, she attributed this to inexperience. After awhile she would probably become adept at slipping them inside in a short space of time. She took to the task, repeatedly bending over as if her stomach hurt and then slipping a marble up her cunnie. She even got to the point of slipping in two at a time. She lost count of how many she had gotten inside. It was certainly quite a few. She squirmed a bit on the seat. She could feel them slipping and rolling around inside. It was actually rather titillating. When she felt that she couldn't, or really shouldn't, fit in any more, she stopped to glance around. There didn't seem to be anyone who was knowledgeable about what she had just done or, at least, nobody was staring at her in shock or voyeuristic pleasure. She sat back, gleaming with a pride so clearly evident on her face, her chin jutting out. She thought, 'Bring them on, Tom, and I will knock them down!' "Very good, Maureen, but you have a few more to go." He brought out another bag. This one had only a few marbles, bright, solid yellow ones, but, more importantly, they were a full two inches in size. "Tom, I really don't think, no, I know, I really can't put in any more. I mean, they will just all fall right out, and these ones are more than twice as big." "Actually, they're four times as big, and I didn't mean up that portal. I meant the other side. Three large yellow marbles would be good for that." "Tom! No, I can't do something like that." She lowered her voice, as a couple of persons did now glance over, naturally wondering what her husband apparently wanted his wife to do. "That's just too naughty. It's like dirty." Tom picked up three yellow marbles and rolled them around in his hand, like Bogart had done in Caine Mutiny. He knew he was pushing his luck. He might himself have a mutiny on his hands. He should probably just stop with the marbles in the cunnie. One week ago he would have never imagined her doing that for him. But, she was not using the safe word. "I don't think you want to disappoint me, Maureen." She didn't want to do that, and it was not her position to question his judgment, at least not today. "Alright then," she said, begrudgingly, reaching for the larger yellow marbles. These she could not slip in by feigning a stomach ache. These required more direct action; a quick smooth motion, although perhaps she could pretend, if caught, that she was scratching an itch. She looked around, waiting for the optimal time, when no one seemed to be looking her way. It was difficult, as there was a continue flow of persons walking down the passage toward more shops. Many of them though appeared to be engrossed in conversation. She took a deep breath, lifted her butt off the couch, and reached back, a marble gripped tightly with two fingers and a thumb. She could feel the marbles wiggling in her vagina as she lifted her bum off the couch. She gripped them tight and quickly positioned the large yellow marble against her anus and shoved it hard inside. Fortunately, it popped right in. It was rather big, but its round smoothness facilitated a relatively easy access. She plopped back down on the couch and looked around again. Unfortunately, a few persons walking toward her had in fact noticed, although they did not appear to be certain what she was doing. She reached back and scratched her bottom. It was a little embarrassing to be openly scratching your butt in public, but that was certainly far better than publicly sticking marbles up your butt. She wasn't too sure that her ruse worked, but it would have to be good enough. She waited until the persons who appeared to be noticing her had walked by, although she was also feeling rather squirmy with all the marbles up her vagina, and a big one now stuck up her rectum. Once the coast appeared to be clear, she again raised her bottom. This time she had the two remaining marbles in her palm, and quickly popped both of them inside. The third one was a bit difficult, as she had to shove up the two previous ones even higher up her rectum, and bodily instincts clearly did not appreciate such large objects being stuffed up inside. Once they were in she quickly sat back down. This time it was clear that one man was fully aware of what she had been doing. He was sitting across from them. He had noticed her stomach trouble, but thought nothing of it, other than being concerned that she might in fact get sick or she might cough and then he could catch something. He was then confused by her apparent butt itch, and so watched her quite closely the third time and clearly saw her stuffing things up inside. He smiled knowingly at her, and Maureen flushed deep red with embarrassment. "Honey", she whispered, "let's get out of here, please." "Certainly, dear." He spoke quite openly, letting anyone who was interested hear what he was saying. "Let's go to Victoria's Secret. I believe you might be in need of some panties." He got up and held his hand out for her. He said more quietly, "Now, be careful dear, we don't want any of the marbles slipping out." Maureen got up awkwardly from the couch. She appreciated his help, as she was in fact feeling quite uncomfortable. She felt like she had to go real bad, a number two, but the marbles up her vagina might be even more difficult to hold. At least her sphincter was built to hold things inside, although large smooth round marbles were considerably more difficult to retain than what was usually there. Walking in heels can be difficult for some women, but not for Maureen. She enjoyed quite elevated heels, and was a natural with them. She liked how they accented the roundness of her bottom, particularly when she was wearing, like today, a short tight skirt. However, coupling heels with marbles up your vagina and butt was problematic, to say the least. She didn't want to take full steps, as she wanted to keep her thighs as tightly closed as possible. The more pressure she could apply to the marbles, the better. But, her gait looked so awkward, like a geisha girl who was wearing heels for the first time or, perhaps more accurately, a little girl who had to go to the bathroom real, real bad. She even wondered at times if she could hear them clanking against each other, but she knew it must just be her self-conscious imagination. Fortunately, the Victoria's Secret was not very far, and Tom was being considerately patient with her clumsiness. She did though, on occasion, have to completely stop to prevent a marble from slipping out. She would stand in front of a display window, pretending that she was particularly interested in something on display, when in fact she wanted to take the time to try to stabilize their position. Twice, however, she had to go so far as to quickly slip a finger up her skirt to push them back up inside. She felt so embarrassed doing so, as it was clear that at least some persons saw her doing it, probably figuring that she had some sort of nasty yeast infection that needed scratching. She was so glad when they finally arrived. But, it wasn't going to be that easy. Tom took his time browsing the selection of panties. There were really so many to choose from. It was difficult making up your mind. Maureen stood by patiently. At least she didn't have to walk around anymore. Holding them in while just standing wasn't nearly as difficult. In fact, they now felt rather sexy, particularly the marbles up her vagina. He finally assembled a selection. "Here," he said, "try on this pair. I think it actually matches the marbles quite well." She had to admit that they did. It was part of the Victoria's Secret Pink series, an extreme low-rise cotton bikini panties that were decorated with very colorful pink and yellow curved stripes and a polka dot waistband. She gratefully received them. She turned to the dressing room. He corrected her. "No, no, try them on here." "Right here?" "Yes, of course. I want to see how they fit." "But, honey, sweetie, you can't expect me to put them on here." She whispered more quietly. "Somebody is bound to see us." She included him in this concern, but it wasn't clear how it should be a concern to him, at least, he wasn't concerned. It wasn't like they were in the middle of the store. They were in a fairly remote corner, surrounded, for the most part, by lingerie displays. If she was removing her blouse she would probably be instantly noticed, but the waistline and below were reasonably well hidden from view. Persons occasionally strolled by, and a sales clerk might approach them, but it would not take long to put them on. "You'll be fine. Just put them on." The Submission of Maureen She did as she was told. She looked about, checking to see if anyone was looking at them, and double-checking to see that her lower body was actually hidden from view. She crouched down a bit, quickly stepped into the panties, slid them up over her bottom, and stood back up straight. It hadn't taken more than a few seconds, and she was so relieved to have them on. She could feel her vaginal muscles instinctively relaxing as the panties clearly helped to hold the marbles in. "They fit well, dear, can we go now?" "Lift up your skirt. I want to see how they look." "Honey, please, somebody might see. I really can't do that." "Just for a bit. I really do want to see them." "But, honey, sweetie, what if somebody from the school sees me." "None of your students will be in a Victoria Secrets store." "Their fathers, or mothers, might be." Imagine the shame at the next Parent-Teacher meeting, knowing that she had lifed up her skirt and shown her panties to them, the mother, or, even worse, the father. She looked around the room. She didn't though recognize anyone in the store. Maureen took a deep breath and lifted the front of her skirt, her heart pounding with anxious apprehension. She was such a pretty sight. The colorful panties looked so titillating, being so freely displayed beneath the upraised skirt. They also hugged closely her pussy mound. Tom could even detect a camel toe, although he wondered if her lips were somewhat distended by the presence of the marbles. "Yes, they are nice." Another masculine voice added, "They certainly are." "Oh my!" Maureen exclaimed as she quickly pulled the hem back down to cover herself, her face coloring deep red in embarrassment. This was precisely what she had feared. She had just shown a complete stranger her panties. She didn't mind an occasional flirtation. Any girl who wears such short skirts can't be too upset if on occasion a little accident occurs. But, this was quite different, quite inappropriate, and quite shameful. Tom, however, only laughed at their indiscretion. The gentleman, being one, strolled off. He had enjoyed the free show and, in appreciation, didn't want to put her on the spot. Tom handed her another pair. "Are you serious? I'm not going to do that again." "Would it be better to have a spanking, right here in the store?" Maureen's eyes widened in shock. What was happening to her husband, to her John Cage? He never seemed so authoritative, so bold. He wouldn't really spank her in public, would he? How dreadfully humiliating would that be, bent over a display table, her skirt pulled up, and publicly paddled, squirting out marbles as she was soundly spanked. She was about to exclaim, "Rosebud," but realized that there was a way to avoid it; just simply comply with his request. She said meekly, "I'll try them on." Her cunnie grew warm with the activity of the marbles and the thought of coming so close to being publicly paddled. The next pair was a bit more difficult as it required two steps: removing the colorfully striped panties and then putting on another pair. She looked around, crouched down a bit, and reached up her skirt to pull the bikini panties down. Just when she had them at her knees another gentleman, an older man, turned the corner. She didn't understand why she had missed him. Perhaps he was leaning over to study some garment. But, it didn't matter, he was standing right now just about in front of her. She froze in mid-undress, a look of panic on her face, her cunt clutching the marbles, her rectum seeming to interpret the squatting as a sign for relaxing the sphincter. "Keeping going," Tom ordered. Maureen looked with fright at her husband. He wanted her to continue, to remove her panties in front of a stranger? The gentleman looked equally stunned, and confused. Before him was this most prettiest of young ladies, crouched down, her panties at her knees. He could see her embarrassment, her discomfort, at being caught like this, but he did not walk away. No, instead, he just stood there, enjoying the fact that she was so clearly uncomfortable. And, besides, he had not seen a pretty young lady in such dishabille in quite some time. He wanted to enjoy this as much as he could. Maureen did as she was told, her face flushing redder and redder as she slid the panties over her knees and down to her ankles. She braced herself with the display table as she awkwardly stepped out of them, pleading that no marble would fall out. But, she could feel herself getting terribly moist within her cunnie, and there was little doubt that she would not be able to hold them for long with her cunnie becoming so thoroughly lubricated. The presence of the older man, the stranger, was at least helpful in providing more cover. Nobody else was likely to see her, but, still, she felt so terribly exposed, and shamed, as she pulled on the second pair. She was careful to keep her skirt down as she slid the panties on. But, the effort to keep her skirt down proved to be fruitless. "Lift up your skirt, dear, so that we can see how they fit." Maureen didn't know if her face could get any redder, but she did as she was told, lifting up the hem of her short black skirt to show her husband, and a complete stranger, her panties. "Well, I don't know what you should be embarrassed about. They really look quite lovely. Don't you think so, sir?" The gentleman wasn't too sure what he should say or do, but it was clear that the husband was not adverse to his presence. He answered politely, and quite honestly, "Yes, yes, I must get my wife a pair like these." They were quite attractive. This pair was part of the Angels collection: stretch lace, pink boy short nylon panties that again clung tightly to her precious figure. It was as if the lace was painted on, as her cunnie formed a delicious v-shaped pouch. "Yes, very, very good," her husband observed. "Now, one last pair," he said, handing to her a pair of thong panties. Maureen knew that she would want to purchase the panties, not only because they were actually quite pretty and fetching, and because it was her birthday, and because they would bring back fond memories, but also because she was leaving a rather evident spot of moisture. She surely hoped that the sales girl wouldn't notice. The third pair was perhaps the most enticing. It was a Chantell Thomas black skirted thong. The skirt, if you could call it that, was a sheer lace silk that reached just to her cunnie and did not in fact entirely cover her bottom. Maureen liked it the most, as she should, as it was quite expensive. Both her husband and the stranger smiled as she pulled off the boy shorts and stepped into the skirted thong. Maureen did not feel as uncomfortable showing off the third pair. Perhaps she was actually getting used to it, or perhaps it was just because she liked these panties so much. She even smiled at her husband, although refrained from making any eye contact with the stranger. "Alright then," Tom said, "we'll purchase these three. Why don't you take them off so I can bring them to the counter." "Honey, could I at least keep these on?" "No. She'll need to confirm which ones you purchased. I suppose though that you could raise your skirt up at the front counter to show her." "No, no," Maureen acquiesced. "I'll take them off." However, as she was pulling off the panties, all three of them heard the ping sound of a marble hitting the hard wood floor and then rolling away. "Oh my!" exclaimed Maureen, as she felt another marble slip out. She clasped her hand over her cunnie to prevent any further accidents. She looked up at her husband in panic. The stranger just chuckled at the sight. He hadn't realized that she was hiding marbles up her cunnie, and he smiled at her embarrassment as they fell out and rolled away. He considered going after them. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do. But, he continued to think it best to just stand by and not interfere. Tom took charge. "You better get them Maureen, before their source is discovered." Maureen scrambled after the two marbles. Fortunately, they had not rolled far, although the sound of them hitting the floor and rolling off had attracted the attention of a sales clerk and a couple of customers. Maureen wanted to keep her hand safely holding her cunnie as she got the errant marbles, but with people now looking her way she had to let go. "Be sure to keep your legs straight as you bend down to pick each one up." That would ensure that her skirt would ride up high. She thought, 'Must he be so cruel?!" But, she did as she was told. She approached the first marble, which hadn't rolled off too far, and bent way over, doing her best to keep her legs straight. Her tight skirt rode up high in the back. Anyone standing behind her was treated to a delicious sight of her shapely legs and thighs, so nicely dressed in nylon that was held up by the sexy garters, but, most importantly, there was a full view of her deliciously pouting cunnie: a sweet little pouch of soft, tender flesh, split by her luscious lips, which now clearly glistened in the bright lights of the store. Tom and the stranger could feel their cocks swelling at the sight. A few others were treated to the lovely sight as well, and jaws dropped in shock at the lewd display. Some of the women felt quite sympathetic. They figure she must have been trying on panties, lost an expensive earring or something, and was momentarily distracted, losing track of the fact that she wasn't wearing panties anymore or ignorant to the fact that she was bending over in such a fashion that her skirt would ride up so much. The men could care less about trying to figure out an explanation. They just enjoyed the presentation. Maureen knew that she must be providing quite a shameless exhibition. She felt so terribly embarrassed, but her heart was also racing with excitement. She had never taken her short skirt flirtations so far before, and would never have done so if not for the fact that she was being compelled, commanded, to do so, by her husband. Being submissive does have its benefits. You get to do things without taking responsibility for making the decision. But, still, she was quite worried that one of the onlookers might be someone she knew. As she bent over for the second marble, another one popped out, and this time the audience behind her was treated to the sight of it escaping from in between her lips. "Oh no!" she yipped as she felt it squirt out and fall to the floor with a distinct ping. She was so mortified that she grabbed the second marble and didn't even try to get the third. "Oh my, oh my!" she exclaimed as she hurriedly left the store, another marble slipping out, not even looking behind her as she was simply unable to look anyone in the eye. She could hear some titters and giggles, as everyone now understood what the first pieces of "jewelry" had in fact been. Maureen felt so terribly ashamed. What must they be thinking? Tom, however, just chuckled at his wife's humiliation. He calmly approached the sales clerk with the three pairs of panties. He did, however, smile apologetically. "I am so sorry. I must apologize for my wife. She was trying out some sort of new meditative exercise." It was a terribly lame excuse and the sales clerk wasn't buying it. But, with her now departed from the store, there really wasn't a serious problem. However, when Tom left the store he found his wife with a mall security officer. His wife was clearly quite upset. "Sir, please," he asked the officer, "what seems to be the problem?" "Hello sir. I'm Officer Travis. You are, of course, this woman's husband?" "Yes, yes, please, what is the problem?" "Well, as I was explaining to the young lady here, the two of you might not realize that there are security cameras throughout the mall: within this store and along the promenade. We have been tracking your wife's escapades ever since she began placing the marbles up within her vaginal orifice and, well, if you don't mind me saying, sir, her, um, rectum?" Maureen covered her face with her hands. What had started out as just some playful prank was beginning to take a far more serious and awful turn. She had been concerned about being spotted by someone she knew. She had never thought about being spotted by an officer of the law. "Well, yes, officer. That's true, and I do apologize for her. She does seem to enjoy a bit of the more creative, playful escapade." "Well, it might just be playful for her, and for you, but for us it is quite serious business. Fortunately, you were not discovered by any children but, even still, what she has done is frankly against the law. I could have the both of you arrested for lewd and lascivious behavior." This was indeed quite serious; in fact, very much so. Any such arrest would, minimally, be quite publicly embarrassing and, for Maureen, would likely result in the loss of her job. What elementary school would hire a woman arrested for lewd and lascivious behavior? It had seemed so innocent, so playful, but it certainly no longer felt that way. "Officer," Maureen desperately pleaded. "Please, I promise, I meant no harm. I promise I will never do any such thing again! If you want, I promise never to even return to this mall. Please, don't have me arrested." "Well, ma'am, I appreciate your concern. But, frankly, it's not entirely up to me. The head of security and the mall supervisor have already indicated that they would like to prosecute. We really can't tolerate this type of behavior within the mall. In fact, they want to make this an example for the community to demonstrate that this is indeed a family values mall. Now, if you please, come with me to the security office." "Please, please," Maureen begged. "Officer, I will do anything to make amends. I just can't have this be public." But, he would not budge. "Ma'am, I am providing you with some consideration in that I am not placing you in handcuffs, which I certainly could, and perhaps should, do. Now, let's not discuss this further." He firmly grasped her arm and directed her to accompany him to the security office. "Tom!" Maureen pleaded to her husband. But, there was frankly little he could do. He looked terribly sympathetic but equally worried. They marched to the security office, Maureen in tow. They had to walk rather slowly, however, as Maureen still had quite a few marbles up her cunt and the larger ones up her rectum. She certainly didn't want any to fall out in front of the security officer, or the considerable number of persons passing by. The security officer understood why she wanted to proceed so slowly but he was not particularly sympathetic. "You should have thought of that before you placed them inside your vagina. Frankly, I think it would be appropriate punishment to have them fall out as we proceed. I could make you pick them all up. Maybe one of your colleagues from work, or even better, from your church, would come by. But, I suspect that you might in fact simply enjoy that, and I am not about to participate in your obscene dalliance." Maureen looked to the floor as she was pulled along. She felt like a child being taken to the principal's office, just as she had done so for many, too many, little children in her class, and now this was in fact happening to her. She certainly didn't want to catch the eyes of anyone in the mall. She begged, pleaded, with fate to not have any of those she happened to walk by be the parent, or even worse, one of the students from her class. The security office was a rather small room tucked away in a corridor used to enter the area in which the movie theater was located. Waiting inside for them was indeed the head of security and the mall supervisor: two men dressed in business suits looking quite officious and troubled. "Yes, I recognize her," said one of the men. Maureen blushed at the thought that they had been watching her through a camera as she put marbles up her vagina, and even up her butt. She shook her head at how stupid she had been. "Mrs. um," the security guard realized that he had not yet determined her identity. "What was your name again, ma'am?" "Listen," she said, "Do you really need to know that?" She didn't know which of the two men was the mall supervisor, which she assumed must be the person in greatest authority. So, she spoke to each of them. "As I told your security officer, I am sincerely very sorry for what I have done and I promise never, never, to do anything like that again. It's my birthday, and things just really got out of hand. We've never done anything like this before." This was all very true, but it didn't seem to have much effect. "No, ma'am, I'm afraid we will need to make you an example. I am Cedric Yarbrough, the mall supervisor. This is Jim Dangle, the chief security officer, and you've already met Deputy Travis. I am under strict guidelines to obtain prosecution of all shoplifters, vandals, and others, to the fullest extent possible under the law. Now, let's see some identity." Mrs. Black opened her purse, retrieved her wallet, and provided her driver's license, trembling, feeling like she was about to cry. Her husband pulled his wallet out of his pocket and provided his driver's license as well. The security chief took down the information on some formal incident report. As he was doing so, Maureen looked around the room. There was a bank of video monitors running along the top of the wall, with video tape machines under each one. Clearly evident on one screen was the lingerie store; on another was the bench on which they had been sitting. Behind her, facing the screens was a desk and chair, and perpendicular to them, running along the full length of the wall, was a couch. The couch had been pulled out and turned at an angle to provide a better view of the monitors. Maureen could feel her face redden again as she imagined them sitting there as she put on what she had thought had been a largely private show. "Now, ma'am, or, let me say, Mrs. Black, I need to ask if the marbles were the only things that you hid up within your body." "What?" "We have, so far, only identified the tape in which you appear to be placing marbles inside of your, um." He seemed a bit embarrassed himself to be talking about it. "Your, well, you know, your vagina and your, my gracious, your rectum." He sighed with disgust as said it, causing Maureen to look down to the floor in shame. Her husband placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder but he knew that there was little he could do to minimize her sense of humiliation. Well, maybe there was one thing. "Officers, and um, Mr. Yarbrough, please, I want you to know that this was all my idea." "Well, Mr. Black," Officer Dangle responded, "That is why you are here as well. You, of course, will also be charged, but the fact, if it is a fact, that it was your idea does not in any way excuse your wife from her own criminal responsibility. I am assuming that you did not physically threaten or extort her to commit this crime." Tom contemplated stating that he had, but, perhaps for obvious reasons, he chose not to. He just shook his head. "Now," Mr. Yarbrough interjected, "I must ask again. Have you hidden within your body any objects or valuables other than the marbles?" Maureen now thought she might understand their concern. "Goodness, no sir. That was it, just the marbles." "Well, I am sorry to say, ma'am, that your word is really not going to be enough. I'm sure you understand. Therefore, if you don't mind, would you please expel for us everything that you have in fact hidden within you." "Are you joking?!" "Ma'am," he replied, expressing considerably more authority in his voice and crossing his arms. "I wish I was, but lewd and public indecency within our mall is certainly not a joking matter." The Submission of Maureen "But, now, right here? A restroom, there was a restroom just down the corridor. I could go there and, um." She didn't like using the word 'expel.' "I could remove the marbles there." That seemed to be a fair compromise. "Someone could come with me, and, um, well, stand outside the stall." That would be embarrassing enough, but at least considerably better than doing it in his office, right in front of these men. "Yes, you could, ma'am, and we could accompany you." That wasn't what she was actually suggesting, but it appeared to be moot. "However, you could then remove any jewelry or other articles of value that you happen to have hidden up there, none of us being the wiser. No, we need to witness the expulsion." "Mr. Yarbrough," Tom objected. "This is my wife, and you are men. I must insist that this is really quite inappropriate." "Really?" Mr. Yarbrough kept his attention on Maureen. "It's not like you were feeling particularly modest before." Not surprisingly, Maureen objected as well. "But, really I wouldn't have been doing it if someone else was watching. This was just a private, a little game, with my husband." "Private. A private game in a public shopping mall?" Her defense didn't sound very convincing. "And, I might add, you didn't seem at all reluctant to show that man in the lingerie store your panties, and then you even bent over to show all of the customers your naked personal privates. What was really private about that?" Maureen did not know what to say. Mr. Yarbrough did. "Suddenly, you claim to be uncomfortable exposing yourself to men, in the privacy of the security office. One can't help but wonder if it is because you do indeed have stolen material hidden up inside. Now, if you wish, we can call the police and have them strip search you downtown." Anything that Maureen could do to forestall the involvement of the police, she would do. "Besides," Deputy Dangle added, "We will let your husband stay in the room. He will be here to ensure that nothing happens to you. We certainly have no interest in taking advantage of this situation or using it for any prurient interests of our own. Now, if you would, raise up your skirt and expel the marbles from your vagina, and anything else you happen to have up inside." Maureen looked to her husband for help, for some rescue. "I'm sorry honey, but I believe they have a point." Maureen was surprised that he seemed to actually be defending them, but the rationale for his conciliation became evident. He added, "Besides, if they realize that we certainly aren't thieves, and are being fully cooperative with them, perhaps they will not see the need for the involvement of the police." That was compelling, but, my goodness, at what cost? She hesitated, but not for long. Just about anything would be worth not getting arrested, shamed in public, and losing her job. But, still. "Certainly I don't need to raise my skirt. You don't have to see me, you know, down there." She gave them her most plaintive look, feeling like a child desperately trying to avoid the punishment of her father, appealing to the natural difficulty any man has in ignoring a woeful, piteously charming girl. She even looked about to cry, which wasn't difficult as she truly felt like she might cry. "I'm sorry ma'am, but we must insist on witnessing the actual location and departure of the objects. I appreciate your concern, but we do not have a female officer on hand to perform this function. The only alternative I can offer is to go downtown. I'm sure that they will have a female correction's officer at the jail available for such a task." Maureen slowly raised the front of her skirt, gradually revealing her naked pussy, and she was in fact revealing quite a bit. Maureen kept her cunnie well trimmed. She took considerable pride in her physical attractiveness and wasn't about to neglect the most feminine part of her body. However, she wasn't too happy about that right now. She certainly had not been trimming her cunnie for the pleasure of these three men. She could not help but wonder if they were in fact getting some personal pleasure at making her do this. If that was true, they should be ashamed of themselves. She kept her attention directed to the floor, not wanting to see whether they were enjoying, ogling, her exposure and her disgrace. And, they were indeed. They gathered in front of her to get a good look, and it was a very good look. Her cunnie was so pretty: a delicate slit traversing the soft white mound. The only deviation from the sweet crevice was the protrusion of her clitoral hood and, it seemed to them, her clit was notably peeking out. What was most intriguing, however, was how her lips glistened with feminine moisture. Maureen was herself aware of her wetness, and that just added to her mortification. The fact was that this severity of embarrassment was itself still quite exciting, even more exciting than what she had been forced to do so far. This wasn't a fantasy game. This was a true public humiliation, a submission that was for real. She didn't think that she had ever felt so aroused, and that just further escalated her shame. She concentrated on relaxing her vaginal muscles, although trying to push them out as well. It didn't take long for the marbles to start dropping out. It was so embarrassing, feeling them slip from her vagina, like very little round plops, queer odd "turds," that were dropping out from her cunnie rather than from the normal, the correct, place for such expulsions. And, as each fell they made a large pinging on the floor as they bounced and rolled away. Quite a number actually fell out. She was surprised at how many were still there after the ones that had already been expelled. She hadn't realized how many she had stuck up inside, and she wished now that she had made a more careful counting. She didn't know how many were actually up there, but, eventually, finally, there was a silence and she felt empty. There didn't seem to be any more left. She wiggled her hips, trying to see if she could shake anything more out (Officer Dangle rudely chuckled at the sight), but nothing else came out. She raised her head, crestfallen at the sight of the smirking smiles on the faces of the men. "I think that's it," she meekly said. "Really?" replied Mr. Yarbrough. "Are you sure?" "Um, yes, really. And, uh, as you can see, it was just marbles." "Yes, well, ma'am, Mrs. Black, I'm sure you can appreciate that we can't just take your word for this." Maureen instinctively covered her pussy with her hands. "What do you mean?" "Well, we will have to check ourselves to be sure. For all we know you put the marbles in after you hid the jewelry, using them to hide the real treat." "Please, would I have been letting them fall out in the lingerie story if they were there to hide something?" "That's a good point, ma'am. You raise a good point. But, then, it didn't look to us like you were purposely letting the marbles escape. That seemed to me more like an accident." "But, officer," Mr. Black interjected, trying to help his wife, "Why would she be going without panties if she was trying to sneak out with some jewelry." "Excellent point again. I see what you're saying. Frankly, I must admit that I don't really believe that you have hidden stolen property." "Speak for yourself," interjected Officer Dangle. "Yes, well," continued Mr. Yarbrough, "Whether we do or don't believe you, we would ourselves get into trouble if we just let you leave at this point without a careful search." Deputy Travis stepped forward, reaching out with his index finger as he approached Maureen's pussy. "Please!" exclaimed Mrs. Black. "You really aren't going to touch me, are you?" "Well, ma'am, again, if we had a female security officer we would have her make the inspection. Or, as I suggested before, we could just take you downtown to the police station where you would be formally charged. I imagine we will do this eventually, so perhaps we should just get it over with." Maureen lowered her head in shame, covering her face with one hand, keeping the other hiding her cunnie. "Oh my, this is just so awful." "Well, well, let me see," Mr. Yarbrough said. "We don't want to be accused of actually molesting or assaulting you. I do appreciate your concern. Why don't you have your husband use his finger. If we can see that he is thoroughly inspecting the inside of your vagina, then, well, I will settle for that." He turned to his colleagues. "Will that be acceptable to you, Officers Dangle and Travis?" "Yea, sure," they both replied, although Deputy Travis was clearly disappointed in being denied the opportunity to conduct the search himself. Maureen didn't hesitate in accepting this compromise. She removed her hand from her face and exclaimed, "Yes, yes, that will be acceptable!" Rude, but acceptable. "Excellent then. Raise your skirt." She did as she was told, again displaying her moist cunt, looking away as she did, not wanting to see the lust in their eyes. "Very nice," Mr. Yarbrough again observed. "Now, Mr. Black, come around here to her side, and see if you can dig out any more marbles, or anything else that might be hidden up in that sweetness." Maureen did not care for how he put that, but she wasn't about to complain. Mr. Black did as he was told. He gently placed his left on his wife's shoulder, trying to provide her with some reassurance and support, and then slid his right index finger in between her wet lips. He felt around a bit, drawing up and down her luscious lips, wanting to get his finger sufficiently lubricated, and then softly pushed his finger up into her hole. "Unnnnh," Maureen moaned as she felt her husband's finger forcing its way up inside her. She felt horribly debased, being forced to let three men watch as her husband fingered her. It was certainly better than having one of the officer's finger her, or getting arrested, but at the moment she didn't feel terribly appreciative. "Now," Mr. Yarbrough instructed, "Be sure to get it up in there really, really deep, and wiggle it around a lot so that if anything is in there, you'll feel it or dislodge it." "Yes sir," Mr. Black replied. He submerged his finger deep inside, prodding, poking, and stirring about. "Oh my," Maureen softly exclaimed, as she felt her husband's finger working itself around and around, deep inside her. Her own hips wiggled and squirmed, partly with discomfort at his rough inspection but as well with her own increasing arousal. He had been teasing her for so long, all last evening, and for the past hour or so, without ever letting her get relief, without ever even touching her. But, he was touching her now, and despite the public humiliation, actually because of the public humiliation, she was finding herself becoming terribly excited. "Please, please," she softly pleaded with her husband. Her pleas were mixed with the squishing and slurping noises of his finger sloshing around in her tight, wet cunt, which just further added to her mortification. Mr. Black wasn't entirely sure which his wife would prefer, ending this humiliation now or bringing her off. She was clearly quite excited. She was trying to deny it, hiding her face within his shoulder, but her wiggling and squirming, the noisy sloppiness of her cunt, betrayed her. He literally tried to feel her preference by pressing his thumb against her hardened clit as he worked his finger in and out of her cunt, plunging her like a piston. "Darling," she gasped, turning to him and clasping her fingers against his shoulder, pressing her cunt hard against his finger, his thumb, and now openly thrusting her hips in concert with his finger. "Whoa, whoa!" Mr. Yarbrough brought their play to a halt. "I wasn't trying to suggest that you actually do her, Mr. Black. My goodness. You two are like a couple of rabbits, aren't you. Now you get that finger out of her, Mr. Black. If there was anything in her, I imagine you would have found it by now." Tom reluctantly slid his finger out of Maureen's cunt. Maureen sighed with frustration. Her legs felt weak and she leaned against her husband for support. She wanted so much to go home, to get away from these men, this trouble, and into bed with her husband. "Turn around now, ma'am, and let's see what you've got up the other hole." Maureen was losing her ability to protest. She felt so confused, so humiliated, yet so inflamed. She turned her back to the men. "Bend over, Mrs. Black, raise your skirt, and spread your cheeks." The blood naturally ran to her face as she bent over and raised her skirt. She had done this the previous evening for her husband, as well as this morning on her own, perhaps it should not then trouble her. But, both times it had still been quite humiliating, and this was far, far worse. "Please, sir, I'm a school teacher." "Frankly, ma'am, that makes it all the worse, as I would think that a school teacher would have a stronger moral compass than to be exposing herself within a public shopping mall. I don't suppose the principal of your school will like hearing about this." He certainly wouldn't. Maureen knew full well that she would lose her job if he did. She slowly leaned over, raised her skirt, reached back and spread her cheeks. The men all grinned at the sight of the pretty school teacher spreading open her ass cheeks for them, exposing to view that tender little brown butt hole. This school teacher did indeed have a delightfully pretty derriere, and the fact that she was a teacher made the act all the more charming. Each of them imagined she was their teacher, spreading her ass for them. They couldn't think of a good reason a pretty school teacher would do that for them, but that little problem didn't diminish their fantasy. "Well, ma'am, excellent. Now, if you wouldn't mind, you can dig out the marbles or push them out, whichever you prefer." Either choice was terribly degrading. However, the thought of actually sticking her finger up her ass or, even worse, having her husband do that, was just too disgusting. She strained her muscles, trying to discharge the three large marbles out of her rectum. Her sphincter twitched and gaped as she try to work out them out. It wasn't easy. She thought it would be, as they were so round and slippery. However, they were awfully big and the posture was not the normal way to poop something out. The men couldn't help chuckling at the sight. Even Mr. Black seemed to be enjoying the show. Maureen grunted and groaned, and twisted and turned her butt. She shook her hips and wiggled and strained. The men had never seen a stripper put on a better show than this. Finally, one marble could be seen slowly poking it's yellow eye out through the widening rectal lens. Maureen bent way over, shoving her butt out real far, giving it an exaggerated roundness, like a big white pumpkin, and she pushed hard; real, real, hard; and then with a pop the yellow marble plopped out and clanged onto the floor. Maureen gasped with relief. This might be the hardest dump she had ever had. And, with the gaping opening, the second marble popped out as well. The cocks of all three men were rock hard, and they knew where they wanted to go. Actually, only one of the guys was into anal sex, but the other two would be quite happy to go up into that cunt that was so delightfully exposed as well. The third marble, though, just wouldn't seem to come, no matter how hard she pushed and strained. When her efforts finally resulted in a little fart, she had to stop. This was just too terribly humiliating. Everyone had to laugh at the fart, even her husband. Well, not everyone. Maureen didn't. "Please, please, I can't get the last one out. Can't you just let it stay there? If there was no jewelry in my vagina, why would I have any within my rectum?" "Well, ma'am, if you did, then you would actually now be getting away with your crime, wouldn't you." This was a very effective point. "Perhaps if you got into the usual position for such an activity?" That was a good suggestion, albeit rather degrading. Maureen let go of her butt cheeks and squatted. This was much better, in many respects. The position was so much more natural and her skirt was allowed to fall back over her bottom, protecting her modesty, what little modesty one could have while mimicking a dump in front of three men and her husband. With only a little effort, the marble plopped out onto the floor. "Ahhhhhh," she sighed, one of the stronger feelings of relief she had in doing such a thing. "That was the last one," she said, looking up into the eyes of the men as she squatted before them, the marble rolling off behind her. "Well, we will soon see. Your husband will need to conduct a search." Maureen covered her face with her hands. Could this get any worse? She thought that she had made a choice to avoid any fingering of her rectum. "Ma'am, why don't you get up on the couch here, on your knees, facing the back. Here, let's move the couch out to give you more room." Maureen could feel moisture sliding down her thigh as she got onto the couch. She knew this had to be done, but perhaps if they knew just one thing. "Mr. Yarbrough, please, must I submit to this? He has not put his finger up there before." Mr. Yarbrough was incredulous. "You have not yet let your husband do that? Seriously?" Maureen didn't understand why he seemed to be so surprised by that fact. She would assume that only a small minority of husbands had put their fingers up their wives' butts. "Well, yes. No, I mean, no, I have not let him do that before." "Well, frankly, Mrs. Black, I wasn't planning on having your husband put it up there anyway." Well, that was a relief. "His finger will be much too small for that hole. The rectum is much too deep. He will need to use something longer, bigger, deeper." Maureen looked back behind her, into the eyes of Mr. Yarbrough. What was he thinking? He couldn't be thinking that, could he? "Besides, he does seem terribly worked up." Maureen's eyes traveled to the crotch of her husband's slacks, which were indeed bulging with his erection. He did nothing to hide it. In fact, he looked like he wasn't at all adverse to the idea. "He does raise a good point, dear. My finger really couldn't search very far up there." "Sweetie!" she replied, rather shocked at the fact that he was even thinking about going along with this. Anal sex was something that she simply had not tolerated before, not with him or anyone else. "But, that would be no different from. I mean, that would be just like having sex." "Well." "And a very nasty way at that!" Mr. Yarbrough didn't want to start a marital spat. "Well, perhaps you are right, ma'am. Things are perhaps getting a bit out of hand. We really should just take this downtown." There was that awful alternative again. Maureen had to think fast. "Alright, listen. If I let him do that, will you drop all of the charges? Will you call it even?" Mr. Yarbrough furrowed his brow. "Ma'am, that's quite a one-sided bargain, hardly worth even considering. I don't quite see what benefit or value we receive at your husband being allowed to butt fuck you." Maureen blanched at the openly obscene way he put it, but he did have a point. She said quietly, "You would be able to watch." My goodness, that had to be worth something. "Ma'am, we've already seen quite a few corn holing movies." Maureen had to look away from him. Must he use such disgusting language? It was bad enough to do it, and to have to do it in front of them, but must he also throw it in her face like that? What a disgusting thought. She was to them no different than a porno actress degraded to the point of letting guys stick their manhoods up her rectum. She was so insulted at being equated with the sluts that must star, if could call it that, in such movies. But, she was playing with a rather weak hand. She took a deep breath.